


IAWOITE - Chapter 19

by mggislife2789



Series: It All Works Out In The End [19]
Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gunshot Wounds, operating room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9389447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry ;)





	

“Help him!” you screamed. “Don’t let him die! Please!” As the road to the hospital seemed to get further and further away, the medics worked on Spencer - his hand limp at the side of the bed. “Baby, please,” you cried, while the medics tried to shock him back into rhythm, “please don’t die. I can’t…”

Your hands were shaking at the side of your head; they were still caked with his blood. Through a thick veil of tears, you stared at your reddened hands, wondering if you’d done enough to save him. “Wake up,” you whispered in vain, watching as the medics tried once again to shock him into rhythm.

Just as your heart caught in your throat upon seeing one of the medics check his watch to possibly call the time of death, you saw a small tick in the monitor. “Spence! Oh my god,” you sobbed. You’d lunged forward to grab his hand, but the medics pushed you back. They seemed in shock themselves that he was alive and continued to work on him, attempting to keep the wounds from oozing. As you traversed the rocky roads to the small-town hospital, you kept trying to make contact with him, let him know that you were there and you were never going to leave, but the medics wouldn’t have it.

“Miss!” the female medic said exasperatedly. “If you want him to live, you need to let us do our job without getting in the way! Please, sit back!” Without much hope, you sat back and wept silently, your head in your blood-caked hands. When you finally pulled up to the hospital, he still had a pulse, but it was thready. You’d always been one to have hope, even in the worst of situations, but this was truly a test of your faith. The medics opened the doors to the ambulance and ran him inside to an uncertain future and away from you - the team pulling up to the entrance just seconds later. 

“How is he?” Morgan asked, his worry nearly mirroring your own. To your ears, he sounded fuzzy. You looked into Morgan’s eyes and back down at your hands, and the next thing you knew, you had collapsed.

——————–

“Y/N!” Morgan screamed, as you fell into his arms. He picked you up underneath your back and legs and ran you inside, asking the nurses to take a look at you too. 

“I’m okay, Morgan,” you said, waving him off and attempting to climb out of his grasp. “I’ll be fine. Just…where did they take Spencer.”

“Y/N, you just collapsed,” he insisted, “You have to get looked at.” But you weren’t having it. 

Out of Morgan’s arms, you stood against the wall, trying to discern where Spencer had been taken. “Ma’am,” you said hurriedly, stumbling up to the desk, “Where did they take Agent Reid? Spencer Reid? The agent that came in with the bullet wounds just a few minutes ago?” you clarified at her confused countenance. She probably hadn’t been aware of his name, but her confusion was frustrating and you snapped without meaning to.

She’d said he was up on the second floor in the operating room and you ran upstairs on shaky legs without any regard to the screams of your team members behind you. Everyone was insisting that you take it easy, but you couldn’t - not when Spencer’s life was on the line. Not when any second now he could cease to exist and leave you wondering what went wrong. You nearly ran into the restricted operating room itself when Hotch grabbed you back and you collapsed. “He has to be okay…he has to.”

——————–

Nearly an hour later, Spencer was still in the operating room and you felt like you had cried enough for a thousand years. You all sat in silence, heads slumped forward, waiting for any news.

Apparently you had been wrong about crying enough for a thousand years, because out of nowhere, you started sobbing again, bringing Emily and JJ to your side. “He’s gonna be okay,” JJ whispered, rubbing her hand up and down your back. “You were able to stop the bleeding, right?”

“Mostly,” you whispered, wiping the tears from your eyes yet again with the back of your hand, which despite washing, was still tinged with the crimson red blood of your boyfriend. “For the most part…but…if he dies…” you started up again. “He’ll have died jumping in front of a bullet for me.”

“If he does,” Emily started (you could always count on her not to sugarcoat a situation), “it will be exactly how he wanted it. He jumped in front of it for you…because he loves you.”

“If he comes out of this, I might strangle him to death myself for taking a bullet for me. I don’t care what he wants, I want him alive!” you cried, laughing slightly through the tears. You were truly a sight to behold: caked in blood, crying and laughing. When you realized you were laughing, you started to cry again. It was a vicious cycle you couldn’t seem to break - but it was exhausting. Your body felt heavy and weak, so you allowed yourself to slump into Emily’s arms.

After nearly another hour of sitting in silence, during which time you fell in and out of something akin to sleep, the doctor came out of the operating room. You’d only been a profiler for four months, but the rest of the team didn’t look like they were able to read his face either. Maybe worry inhibited your ability to profile. “Spencer Reid?” he said to the group. “He’s alive…and he’s going to be okay.”

Immediately, you dropped to the floor in relief, the happiest of tears painting your face. “Oh, thank god!” you cried.

“He was ridiculously lucky,” the doctor continued, bending down to your place on the floor. “He took two bullet wounds dangerously close to massive arteries and the spinal cord. Thankfully, both lodged themselves in soft tissue and only nicked a couple of the smaller blood vessels, which we were able to stop. You’re his girlfriend?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, your boyfriend is what I would consider a miracle,” he said, placing his hand on your shoulder. “Once he’s awake, I’ll have one of the nurses let you know, so that you can go in and see him.” The corners of his lips turned up as he turned away, watching you fall into the arms of your colleagues.

——————–

About 15 minutes later, one of the nurses came into the waiting room to tell you that Spencer was awake. “He needs rest, so none of you can stay long,” she warned, “but you can see him now.”

Opening up the door to his room was one of the hardest and yet joyful things you’d ever done. “Spence,” you whispered as you walked into the room. He turned towards you and it was like the hallelujah chorus was singing in your head, and you weren’t even religious. He was alive, awake, and smiling. 

“You look like hell,” he muttered. You simultaneously cried and snorted as the rest of the team chuckled behind you. Walking up to his bedside, you bent down to give him a kiss, cradling his face in your hands while being careful of the bandages up by his neck.

“You don’t look so great yourself,” you laughed, sitting next to his bed and resting your head on his arm. “I’m just so glad you’re alive,” you wept. You could feel his hand on the top of your head, but everything felt so far away - like none of this was real - but it was. It was so very real.

“I had to stay alive,” he muttered when you looked up to meet his gaze. “You promised me makeup sex when I was dying…I heard you…I came to collect.”

You’d never laughed so hard in your entire life. It must’ve been the drugs coursing through his system because he was never one to say something like that, especially in front of the rest of the team. When you turned around to see if the rest of the team wanted to come see him before you asked for a few minutes alone, you saw their collective tears - both sad and happy - that had been bottled up for the last few hours in an attempt to be strong for you. Thank god for them, because you didn’t know if you would’ve made it through without their strength to pull from.


End file.
